


Take me to a place where my senses give way

by misgivings



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, Recreational Drug Use, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:01:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23882686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misgivings/pseuds/misgivings
Summary: They might be planning to kill you or something, but you're so tired you don't care. You get in the car with them. It might just be your weakness for creepy death fangirls talking, but the goth chick is kinda cute.Sollux encounters manic pixie dream twins and has an evening of debauchery with them.
Relationships: Rose Lalonde/Dave Strider, Sollux Captor/Dave Strider, Sollux Captor/Rose Lalonde, Sollux Captor/Rose Lalonde/Dave Strider
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25
Collections: HSCCS Promptfest 2020





	Take me to a place where my senses give way

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HSCCSPromptfest2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HSCCSPromptfest2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Dave and Rose are twins. Sollux isn't a very social guy and is not used to all the attention. Symmetry is good? Contrast highlighted by symmetry is very good. God I hope this makes sense basically Dave and Rose team up on Sollux. Include any kink I love them all equally I just wanna make this happen.

The sun seems to slow after it passes noon. By the time it's low in the sky, it's as implacable as a rock. You want badly for time to run faster so your shift will end, but that incandescent orange motherfucker isn't going anywhere.

Neither are the punks in the parking lot. You should probably tell them to shove it before your manager gets back.

Passing from cool air-conditioned interior to evening heat makes the uniform palpably constricting. You loosen your collar a little and walk towards the duo, feeling uncomfortably like The Man. 

They're not standing there for nothing. Positioned squarely between them is a dead bird, baking on the asphalt under the sun. It has a distinct smell already, and you rue the idea that you're gonna have to clean that up.

As for the pair, they seem cast from the same mold. They're both maybe 5’8”, blond, and wearing black in seeming ignorance of the heat. Fucking gothic as hell to be dressed like that. The man-no, boy-seems unflappable behind his shades, wearing distressed skinny jeans that draw out his lanky figure, reminding you of the long shadow he casts. The girl is a little softer in places, like the way her skin pinches from her thigh-highs just under the hem of her skirt.

You feel dirty for even noticing, and clear your throat to get their attention. They both look at you, neither surprised by your presence. As if they'd been ignoring you on purpose.

“I don't know if you noticed, but this is a fucking 7-11, not a pet cemetery. If you're not gonna buy anything, clear off. I'm the fucker who has to clean this sticky corpse off the pavement.” You say to them.

“Hey big guy, chill. We’re just paying our respects. My sister has like, a witchy interest in seeing him off.” He says, sounding almost devoid of inflection or emotion. You think you could get really fucking tired of that voice.

“Like, Wicca?” You turn to ask his sister. Siblings, huh? That made a lot of sense now that he thought of it. The resemblance was uncanny.

“I don't believe in anything with a name on it. My beliefs are more a grassroots thing.” She smiles like she's in on a secret, and your expression turns more sour if it possibly could. Sensing the tension, the brother steps between you two.

“Look, would it help if I buy a slurpee? We were gonna move the fella somewhere anyway. Saves you a lot of trouble.”

“I think it's a girl, Dave.”

You sigh, and head back inside where this kid can at least piss you off with the benefit of air conditioning.

* * *

Both of them are there when you get off work, trudging to your car in the warm, fading light. Dave, the name you caught before, is sitting on the curb eating a bag of chips he bought off you earlier. His sister is leaning on a beat up car and smoking a slender cigarette; you hope the car is at least theirs.

“Thank you for letting us take care of her respectfully.” She says to you as you pass. At the mention, you look to where the body had lain—there was a stain, but only if you were looking for it.

“Uh, don't mention it. Just never do it here again, because people really aren't gonna come in if they see fucking, weirdo kids doing a ritual that looks like satanism. Or worse, they'll call the cops.” You grumble. Dave snorts in laughter and you shoot him a look.

“Fucking boomers, man.” He says airily with a little wave of the hand.

“I'm not a boomer, I'm twenty-six. And I'm off work, so you are officially not my problem anymore.” You say, and begin to storm off.

Her hand touches your shoulder and you tense.

“What makes you think we're not your problem?” She says coyly behind you. Fuck, they're mugging you. You're getting robbed outside your own work, and you're too exhausted and hot to make a run for it. They're gonna take your money and skip town. As you turn around, you're not sure whether to fight or just give up, fists clenched tight as your chest feels. This is the worst day of your life.

She looks up at you, meeting your eyes, smiling effortlessly. She can definitely see your fucking tension, and her hand moves slowly as she reaches in her purse. She must be good with animals, the way she's careful not to spook you. She pulls out a plastic freezer baggie with a couple nugs in it, something you recognise from college parties.

“You're not a cop, correct? Look, I figure...you didn't act like a total jerk when you could have, and you have this sad look about you. Do you want to come and smoke with us?” You immediately want to touch your face like a dope. What sad look? You're pretty sure you just look pissed off most of the time.

They might be planning to kill you or something, but you're so tired you don't care. You get in the car with them. It might just be your weakness for creepy death fangirls talking, but the goth chick is kinda cute.

* * *

When you're out in the shrubland, past city limits, they get out and set up. Rose, as she has introduced herself, rolls out a blanket. Dave sits down on it, plays some Lana Del Rey on his phone, and takes some brown papers to roll with.

You don’t smoke, in any sense of the term. It was basically omnipresent in college, which was fine, you just didn't see the appeal. Once, in high school, Vriska got a pack of cigarettes (she never said where from), and they all met up to try them, coughing and gagging on the awful taste. The memory brought a smile to your lips.

Dave must think the smile was for him, as he hands you the joint. Or is it a blunt? You know enough to say that it's not a bong, and whatever this little jazz cigarette is called you employ the lighter he gives you and take a hit of it.

It's not smooth. You cough on your first breath, and immediately blush, expecting to get made fun of, or at least called boomer again. But Rose and Dave are patient with you. You take a few tentative puffs and pass it to Dave.

Your thoughts turn introspective while they take their turn. You can't help but feel like you don't belong here. You don't have their youth, both the physical sort and the sort they convey with their laughs and smiles. You have bags under your eyes, rent, a dead-end job of convenience. There are worlds between you.

“Still with us?” Rose asks. You look up at her, and she must be ready to pass it to you. She takes one last hit, holds it in her mouth. Dave leans close, and she kisses him like a lover. Her lips part and you realise she's exhaling smoke through his. Is this a show they put on for you, or something mundane and everyday between them? You privately wonder what else they do together, as you take the joint—Rose just called it one to Dave, so you're sure of the term this time.

Dave coaches you on how you should breathe, getting you to inhale it til you feel the smoke deep in your chest. Your eyes water and you just manage to breathe out without coughing, a testament to mind over matter. You can definitely feel something in your skull, but that might just be shortness of breath.

It seems to take a while before you're finished with the joint. The effects of it are most evident when they're external; Rose giggles whenever Dave says something snarky, and meanwhile he’s wearing an earnest grin while he enjoys his playlist, now linked through a bluetooth speaker. It's mostly rap, and a different breed than the aggressive fuck-everyone brand you listen to on your commute. You wonder if he'd put on some Eminem if you asked.

The effects the weed has on you are harder to quantify. You have basically no idea what to expect, but your body feels different all over, in a different way to the buzz you get from alcohol. Your self-deprecating inner monologue is almost absent—for long silences you are merely an observer, seeing and hearing without thinking.

Dave is looking at you. His sunglasses are gone, which makes sense with the light getting dim, and his eyes feel kinda intense when they meet yours. You realise he probably wants the smouldering end of the joint for some stone reason you don't understand, and lean over to give it to him.

Whatever signal you thought was there, you read wrong. Dave kisses you, the first impression being the smoky taste; the second being, fuck, he's soft. You don't exactly pull away, but he regards you with a conflicted look and breaks it off.

“Sorry, got carried away. I guess I should fucking, ask if you even like dudes first, right? So Sol, do you like dudes, or are you only here because you've got the hots for Rose?” He asks, face mere inches from yours. Your heart skips a beat of it’s own volition.

“Hard question. Can I just like  _ you _ ?” You answer breathlessly. You have always been theoretically fine with dating a dude, if forced to consider it. Maybe watched a little gay porn, who hasn't? But no real life guy ever did a single thing to your heart, until Dave, looking at you with the same striking poet eyes Rose has. It's a lot to take in.

“You can, but Rose might be jealous.” He pulls his shirt over his head just like that. The ghost of shame in your mind is trying to pull the brakes on this train, but you were going far too fast now.

Rose has the same confidence as Dave, and didn't need to ask—she'd noticed you ogle her, like the creep you were. She straddles your thigh, arms over your shoulders, and Dave unzips your fly. The jingle of your belt coming undone is the first time you realise that this is actually happening. You're really doing this, with strangers. He fishes you out of your boxers, and whistles appreciatively.

“Told you it wasn't just his wallet.” Dave says to Rose. You wonder when they'd had this conversation.

“Colour me impressed.” She giggles, looking right into your eyes, and kisses you. 

Dave’s hands are warm on your cock, occasionally glancing at you for your implicit permission to keep going. As if he can't tell from the way you get hard, pulsing in his hand. He strokes you slowly, following the slight upward curve. Nobody has ever looked so happy to see a piece of you, you think. Not like the way Dave is smiling as he jerks you off.

Your hands crawl over Rose while you share another kiss, greedily copping a feel of her chest. You've never been good at hiding what you want. She takes your wrist and guides your hand under her shirt, and your fingertips graze her nipple. No bra. God, boobs are awesome.

“Why me?” You ask as your lips pull away. Earlier you were giving them trouble, and now they were sharing their weed and ending your years-long dry spell. “I don't even deserve this.”

“Sex isn't earned,” Rose chides, and kisses you some more. “It's just a fun way to connect with people. And you are having fun, right?”

Nodding furiously, you take both her tits in hand, touching them like priceless artefacts that have been entrusted to you. Not to discredit Dave’s handjob, but this is the best thing that's happened to you in weeks.

Dave stops touching your cock. Is he fucking psychic? Well, no. He's just seen the intent in Rose’s eyes, and you have now too, as she touches your chest and straddles you. Your cock pulses red hot against the inside of her thighs while she meticulously unbuttons your shirt and pushes it off your shoulders. It's tortuous, waiting like that, and you murmur needily while watching her get comfortable. You can't see a single thing under her skirt, but you can feel how ready she is. 

When you're naked, lying in a pile of your clothes, Rose reaches down and slides her panties out of the way. You catch a little glimpse of pink under her skirt. She guides your achingly hard cock, and takes you inside with just a little push of your hips.

“Now isn't that better.” She whispers, arched over you. You are inclined to agree, especially when she relaxes her legs and slides all the way over you. Rose is gentle in the way she fucks you, always touching your face or running a hand through your hair. She likes to find where you push against her just right, and move back and forth against that spot. Every time she does, you gasp against her lips like you've just found god.

Dave, along with everything else in the universe but her, had faded from your thoughts. You notice him again when he kneels next to your face, jerking off slowly. It's the first time you've gotten a nice look at his cock.

“It don't bite, Sol.” He laughs, and you blush, conscious of how much you've stared. He touches your shoulder reassuringly, and you move away from Rose, kissing just beneath his crown, sucking his frenulum very carefully, tonguing it like playing a guitar string. He produces a little appreciative moan; the best part about guys, you muse, is always knowing what to do.

Not that you need to do much for Rose. She's fully in control, to the point that when you get close you just pull back, gasping against the head of Dave’s cock, and let her know you're close.

Rose nodded thoughtfully and slipped off of you, grabbing around you nice and tight, ensuring you won't blow early.

“Dave, why don't you return the favour he's shown you?”

“Fine,” He whispers, kissing you quickly. “But do it standing up.”

You get to your feet, Rose helping you—something you appreciate, your legs feeling far away. It's like handling your body wirelessly, with terrible ping. Dave is down on his knees in front of you, with his mouth open.

“Do what comes naturally.” Rose says, and takes her hand off of you. You don't need to be told twice, that's for sure.

You take Dave’s head in both hands and push into his mouth, hitting just the slightest resistance before you can squeeze into his throat. He takes it unflinchingly, the littlest wet sound from him the only reminder this is a mouth and not an exquisitely well-made toy.

You rut like an unashamed animal, riding his face like a cocksleeve. He's jerking himself off down below. In the way he looks up at you, eyes wide and dilated with his nose in your bush, there is no doubt he's loving this, maybe even more than Rose. The way he swallows when you're in his throat is the straw that breaks your camel’s back.

Dave milks you with inescapable suction and drinks down every drop of cum you have, leaving your thighs quivering. The groan of pleasure you give is so raw and masculine that you feel momentarily disconnected from it, like it came from someone else.

You collapse onto the rug they've lain out, and they join you, ensconcing you in a nest of four skinny arms and a lot of nuzzling. With Dave behind you, you press your thighs together and he thrusts between them slowly until he cums. It's absurdly cute, especially the way he moans in your ear, but you also feel kind of far away from everything right now. The blissful afterglow and weed have combined into a momentary chemical lobotomy, but you're kind of okay just chilling here right now. If Dave minds that, he doesn't tell you about it, even after he leaves a sticky mess between your legs.

* * *

“Where do you live, anyway? Like, roughly, because obviously I'm not a creep. Just, give me a clue.” You ask from the back seat, curled up with Rose while Dave drives. He seems to have sobered up a lot faster than you, or else just has a cool demeanour and a death wish. Actually, that doesn't even sound so far fetched.

“I live in Austin. Rose stays at my place when she’s not at college in Corpus Christi. We actually came from there, we’re going up to Austin for South-Southwest.” He says, and you nod along rather than ask what that is.

“So, uh. I was too nervous to fucking ask in the middle of it, but are you like. Actually blood relatives, or just totally fucking with me?” You look up at Rose meekly, because there is a reason you didn’t ask sooner.

“We have the same dad, yeah. But he skipped with Dave when we were really young, so when we got old enough to find one another on the internet...are you familiar with ideas of reverse sexual imprinting? I’ll show you the literature sometime, but it explains everything.” She says confidently, brushing a hand through your hair.

“Only Rose would bring psychology in to explain why she wants my superb dick.” Dave says from the wheel, and you snort with laughter.

“So that answers my second question, which I probably wasn’t gonna have the nuts to ask after you milked them dry.”   
  
“That’s dry for you?” Rose asks coyly, and your face turns red.

“No, fuck off. It’s called a joke, so don’t act like a clown.” You say back.

“Hah, he gets it.” He agrees. The silence stretches out naturally. At least, it feels like they’re natural about it, but you can’t help but struggle with a lot of things you want to say.

“Uh,” You start promisingly, speaking quickly to get the discomfort over as fast as possible, “If you guys want, I mean...are you driving all night to get there or something? If you want, you can just crash at mine. When we get there.”   
  
“You’d like that?” Rose asks with a tilt of the head.

“I wouldn’t dislike it.”

“You’re too generous. At least attach some strings.” She has a little coy smile, like this is a game she often plays. Refusing an offer she’d love to take.

“Alright, I wanna watch you and him go at it.”

“Sold!” Dave cheers as soon as you’re done speaking, and Rose rolls her eyes.

“Men. Yes, Sollux, you can watch. Too old for a second round?”   
  
“Hah, I can...I can manage one or two more, I just want to see what it’s like. If it’s different. And I guess...I have always had a thing for twins.”   
  
You snuggle into Rose’s chest, enjoying the closeness. She has her underwear off, and carelessly wraps her legs around you. By the time you get home, you’re certain she’s doing the most subtle grinding.

With your sobriety returning, you unlock the door and try not to race up the stairs, excited as you are. Maybe you can call in sick tomorrow. They’re worth it.

They don’t go straight for your bed, which is a shame, because that’s how your fantasies usually go. They hang out in your kitchen, and you offer them beer.   
  
“Don’t drink.” Rose says, shaking her head. 

“Neither. Just hate the taste. Smoking is better.” Dave mumbles, grabbing a coke from the fridge.

“Mom had a problem for it, which is a trauma Dave artfully avoided.” She shrugs. You get her water first, then get a bottle open and crack open a cold one.

“Fucking crazy that you don’t even hide it. I’m a grown-ass man who still browses porn in incognito mode. The self-awareness would kill me.”

“How old are you, then?” Dave asks.

“Twenty six. But I feel way older.” You laugh in your self-deprecating way, rolling your shoulders like they might make a loud audible creak (they don’t, but you imagine one). 

“I’m 19. Three guesses how old my twin is, and the first two don’t count.” He chuckles. Are you a bad person for offering them beer without checking? I mean, the law only applies to buying it  _ for _ the sole intent of-oh, who are you kidding, they fucking smoked you out and you took it, the strict protestant morality is kind of out the fucking window on this one. It’s not like they’re hiding it.

“Look, I do have work, which you are absolutely going to have to drive me to in the morning because holy fuck, I am just realising now that my car is  _ still there _ , but I also want to make a fucking sexy sandwich out of you two because I might never get this chance again. Can I show you the bedroom?”

“I will be giving you the chance again.” Rose comes in close, kissing you with the familiarity of a long-time lover. Her lips are still wet and cold—one thirst quenched, another acquired.

You scramble into bed in a tangle of bodies, kissing and stripping. They’re even hotter in the light of your bedside lamp, if that was even somehow possible. You roll out of the way while Dave slides on top of Rose, then move in behind him. He gives you the gist of how to get him ready to take you, which is something you appreciate because no porn in your life ever actually prepared you for what it takes. He’s remarkably calm while you tease him open with a slick finger, and Rose flatters him throughout it.

“My good little thing, I love when you take dick. Don’t stretch him too much, Sol. He likes it better that way.” Dave does not, in fact, tell you if he does like it better that way, but he also doesn’t complain when you slide between his buns and spear him full. You fall in love then and there with the sound of him getting fucked up the ass, and resolve to get as much of that out of him in one night as possible. 

Rose guides her brother inside, and now you’ve officially fulfilled the most flamingly bisexual twin fantasy you ever dreamed of. Dave is an ecstatic filling to this sweaty sandwich, pumping between you so enthusiastically that you could simply stay still.

You don’t, though, preferring to thrust a little when he backs up. You discover his masochism was no fabrication of Rose’s—she pulls at his nipples while you ram balls deep and he lets out a sob of unrestrained pleasure.

With his tight butt squeezing you, you don’t last very long at all. You pull out and quietly fall aside, and get to watch as he speeds up without your weight. Rose is beautiful when she finally cums, making a face like she’s touching heaven. They seem to cum in the exact same instant (a twin thing, or virtue of their closeness? Tough to say). A very gay part of you that rarely comes out to play watches in distinct appreciation at the way his nuts tense, and his cock throbs with every pulse of cum delivered. He just creampied his own sister. She didn’t even let  _ you _ do that to her. Holy  _ shit _ .

“Guys, is it too early to ask if you wanna be a thing?” You ask as you join the tired snuggle they roll into.

“No, dude. This is like the exact best time, when I am inclined to say yes, fuck yes, and don’t you dare let us leave in the morning without more of this.” Dave says and takes off his shades, surprising you with how different he looks without them. He’s somehow gained a couple years, like his eyes reflect a touch of your own world-weariness. He’s so hot.

“I will do absolutely filthy things for you, Sollux. The dirtiest things. So long as you turn off the lights right now. It’s in my eyes and I’m too comfy to move.” Rose purrs like a contented feline when you oblige her, plunging the room into darkness.

As you get settled in with a soft chest as your pillow, Dave’s hair tickles your face. Normally, your mind would be aflame with unresolved questions. You would need to clarify what thing you are, label it, because otherwise they’ll leave and you’ll become convinced they hate you.

But the way they kiss goodnight to you resolves everything. It is uncomplicated attraction, plain and simple. And you are going to wake up with both of them naked in your bed. It is, even for you, pretty fucking hard to see the bad in that.


End file.
